For Whom The Bell Tolls
by Stellar V
Summary: AU Senshi x Shitennou. When two forces collide, love and duty, which will prevail? Four soldiers, a proud wolf, a charming prince, a wounded devil, and a hidden truth. What does fate hold for each of them in this foreign land, and the ones who soon claim their hearts? A tale of love and war, set in WW2.
1. Prologue

**Setting:** France, World War 2 _(between 1940 – 1944 when France was under German occupation)_

**Main cast:**

Kunzite = Konrad Dietrich  
>Zoisite = Zachary Keitel<br>Jadeite = Johan von Fristch  
>Nephrite = Nikolaus Herschel<br>Minako = Marianne Lavigne  
>Ami = Ameline von Kleist<br>Rei = Roxanne Delacroix (Renée)  
>Makoto = Gabrielle Dupont<p>

_This is a work of fiction so there will be certain historical inaccuracies. __Rating may go up for later chapters._

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><p>"<em>Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee"<br>- John Donne_

**Prologue**

_**June 1944**_

_The waves brought a cool sensation to his numb and blood-stained body, awaking him from unconsciousness. He opened his eyes to the sandy ground now covered in corpses and shelling debris. Smoke and dust blurred his vision as the deafening screams and noises of guns and bombs firing raged on.  
><em>

_Slowly the man picked himself up, blood was dripping from wounds marked across his bodies but he paid them no attention as he looked up to the blue sky, now finally clear of rain and clouds. He closed his eyes again, this time envisioning a much brighter setting. _

_There was a church, a white church, with a big golden bell. He could almost hear its toll._  
><em>There were two faces. One was his. They were smiling. <em>

_And he smiled._

_._

_._

_Days later, as people gathered by the beautiful white church, for the first time in months, its bell was rung._

_The bell tolled, each toll long and heavy, like dropping a weight onto the listener's heart.  
>Was it a joyful toll in celebration of a wedding, or the dreadful signal of a funeral coming to an end?<em>

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**Lyon, May 1940**

Lyon, a city located in east-central France, was famed for its vibrant economy and cinematic zeitgeist. It was home to many of the French cinema treasures. After all, it was here that cinematography was invented. Even as the Germans were marching on French borders, tickets to the Salle Rameau Theater were selling like hot cakes.

292 miles away from Paris and away from the atrocities of war, the people of Lyon were passing the days in modest tranquility. Still, the impending doom on their country's doorstep was not lost on most of them.

Inside a middle-class home situated by the bank of the Saône River, a family of three was gathered around the radio. Their prayers were uttered in silence as they listened to bolstering words of encouragement from their leaders.

"Do you think we'll make it? Even the Netherlands and Belgium have fallen…" turning off the radio, the middle-aged woman asked her family, though it seemed she had already known the answer. Her husband simply shook his head as he buried his face in his palm.

"We beat them before. Surely this time…" she muttered. "And more British troops are arriving in Dunkirk as we speak," her voice was barely above a whisper.

Their young daughter stood up and headed for the door, not saying a word.

"Marianne, where are you going?" the woman inquired after her daughter.

"To the studio, I have some scenes to shoot today."

"But it's-" the door was slammed shut before she could finish.

Outside, the sky had never looked so bleak, Marianne thought.

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><p><strong>Paris, June 1940 <strong>

June 14th, the German army marched into Paris as thousands of its citizens looked on in stunned horror. The mighty France had capitulated. German Divisions were now parading through the Arc of Triumph.

Leading the 2nd Panzer Division was General Konrad Dietrich, the architect behind this lightning conquest which had brought three countries to their heels in less than 2 months.

From his tank, the 27-year-old General studied the beauty of the famed "City of Light". The rumors certainly had not done it justice. It was a good thing the French had surrendered quickly. It would have been a shame to see these magnificent buildings in ruins. This parade could not end soon enough, much to his dismay.

Hours later, as the sun was setting on Paris, just like it had on French hegemony, Konrad now stood on the hill across the Seine River, gazing upon the Eiffel Tower - the prize which had deluded the Kaiser in 1914 and subsequently led to his defeat and abdication 5 years later. Yet here stood Konrad, once just a farmer boy from East Prussia, who had managed to claim this prize in a fortnight. He almost chuckled at the irony.

His military career had brought him to many places, Poland, Norway, the Netherlands, Belgium, and now to the country of Napoleon – one of the few figures who truly commanded Konrad's respect. Not even his current superiors afforded such luxury.

When Konrad was not busy being a ruthless commander on the battlefield, he was a man to appreciate beauty in its true form, such was the scenery before him now. But nothing would ever bring him more joy than the sight of victorious battles and glory to his nation. The young General held nothing more sacred than his military oath and his duty to the Fatherland.

_'Beauty will fade with time. Only glory is eternal.' _

Sounds of coming footsteps shook him out of his musing. His subordinate officer made a quick gesture to salute Konrad and went to stand beside him. The man was his most trusted comrade and life-long friend, Major Zachary Keitel of the 5th Infantry Division.

They stood there in perfect silence, until one of them could no longer take it.

"We've won. _You've_ won. You could at least crack up a smile," the young Major spoke up.

"Celebration is still a bit premature at this stage, don't you think?" Konrad's eyes were locked on the Swastika Flag hanging above the Tower.

"Mope all you want but please don't infect me with your glorious pessimism," Zachary rolled his eyes.

"We let the British escape across the Channel," His face still donned the same expression he had worn when arriving in Paris – unreadable.

"Whatever. Speaking of celebration, the Field Marshal is expecting you at the party tomorrow night," Zachary crossed his arm and looked at his General who was still staring ahead.

"Do I still have to go if I already knew what he wanted to announce?" Konrad rubbed his temple.

"You always do, don't you?" Zachary spoke with an amused tone.

"Starting next month, our army group will be stationed here in France. Lyon, to be precise," his voice calm and serious.

"Lyon? Why Lyon?" Zachary did not take this bit of news well.

Konrad seemed to be in deep contemplation, his eyes on the horizon. He then shook his head, as if erasing any thoughts that were occupying his mind.

"Why don't you ask the Field Marshal yourself? And while you're at it, go find and inform Johan as well." Konrad turned the other direction and walked away.

"I haven't seen him since his laughable blunder at Dunkirk!" Zachary protested.

"There's a party. He'll turn up," he shrugged.

"Sure you don't want to go? Beautiful French models and actresses from across the country in the house!" Zachary could not hide the amusement in his voice.

"Then I'm positive you'll find Johan there," at that Konrad opened the door to his car and stepped inside.

"Is that a yes or no?" Zachary shouted after him.

Only silence came for his question.

_Lyon, what fate was waiting for them there?_

**End of Chapter 1**

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><p><strong>Historical notes (skip them if you don't like boring historical facts):<strong>

German army ranks during WW2 used in my fic, in descending order: _(The US/UK equivalent terms)_  
>Field Marshal - General - Colonel - Major - Captain - Lieutenant - Private<p>

Panzer: name for German tank  
>Kaiser: title of the German Kings<p>

In the first years of World War 2, Germany was very successful, conquering almost half of continental Europe by 1941.

The Dunkirk evacuation: many British troops were able to escape from the seaport of Dunkirk to England after the fall of France because the German army fatally halted its own advance.


	2. Paris, when it sizzles

_Chapter's title was borrowed from the lyrics of Cole Porter's "I love Paris"._

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 –<strong>** Pa****ris,**** when it sizzles**

**Paris, the following night**

Even the chilly drizzle outside did nothing to dampen the German spirit of this joyous celebration. In attendance were over two hundred guests, from German officers stationed across Paris to leaders of the new French government and a handful of A-list personalities, some looking happier than the others.

Tonight, Major Zachary Keitel belonged to the latter. His long wavy hair was tied back in a ponytail, not a tuft out of place, his impeccable uniform decorated with a handful of shiny medals. With a glass of Champagne in his hand, Zachary casually leaned back against the wall.

Music was lovely. Food was great. Company, on the other hand, could not be worse. Endless rounds of frivolous pleasantries with the high officers and a band of clingy debutantes were not what he had signed up for. His sworn brothers-in-arms had all but deserted him to this tedious caucus of a celebration. Apparently they'd all rather be hiking the Alps than spend a minute around these bigwigs. All but Johan. Strangely enough, the said man was nowhere in sight. Zachary sighed as he took another gulp of wine.

Green eyes scouting the crowd, he seemed to finally find solace from the sight across the room. A girl was sitting alone by the windows staring down at her glass. She looked like someone who could hold a real conversation for more than five minutes. _They could both use some company. _Adjusting his uniform, he made his way through the crowd. As Zachary was about to call out for her attention, someone else got his.

"Zach!" He turned around at the sound of his name.

"Maxie! Thanks God!" Zachary relaxed at the sight of his old friend. Maximilian von Rundstedt, the now approaching black-haired man, was the Field Marshal of Army Group A - aka Zachary's and Konrad's big boss here in France.

"Enjoying the party?" Maximilian patted his friend on the back.

"Splendidly," his voice dripped with sarcasm. "Where's your wife?" The Marshal and his childhood sweetheart were married not too long ago. The honeymoon glow had yet to fade from the man's face despite the gruesome fighting he had endured in the past weeks, not to mention the storm of protests from his family and commanding officers when Maximillian had informed them his bride-to-be was the 'princess' of the abdicated Kaiser.

"She's chatting with some violinist in the hall. You know how she is at these events," Maximilian chuckled. He could not have chosen a better wife for this.

"So what's the deal with us stationing in Lyon?" Zachary asked, twisting a lock of his blonde hair.

"Konrad told you, I presume? I think you would have figured it out yourself, pretty boy."

People gave Zachary too much credit sometimes. The 24-year-old Major, young for a man of his position, did try hard to live up to his reputation nevertheless. He _did _come up with an idea or two. "Two words: Atlantic Wall," Zachary replied matter-of-factly, taking another sip from his glass.

"You're not only pretty, you're smart," the Field Marshal's raucous laughter could be heard across the room, startling quite a few guests.

"But isn't Lyon still a bit far from Normandy-" he stopped in mid-sentence as he saw two beautiful ladies coming their way. "Here comes your wife. And the lady accompanying her, I assume, is the violinist you'd mentioned?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Because I'm not only pretty, I'm also smart," he shrugged._ 'And also vain'_, Maximillian made a mental note to himself.

"Zachary, you're here!" The bubbly blonde pulled him in for a hug.

"You look great, Susanna." The princess radiated with more energy every time he saw her.

"You too," She turned to her guest. "Mademoiselle Reynaud, let me introduce you. This is Major Zachary Keitel of the 4th Infantry Division under my husband's command."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle. And, actually, it's the _5th_ Infantry Division," he stressed, not wanting to leave any misconception of his prestigious title.

"Oops, excusez-moi. And Zach, this is the famous and beautiful violinist Michelle Reynaud."

"The pleasure is all mine, Major." Michelle's voice was as soft and gentle as the ocean waves. The very same thing could be said about her hair. There was an aura of mystic and graceful sophistication surrounding her features.

"Oh dear, the Minister of Propaganda's just arrived. We should go over there, Maxie." Susanna quickly took her husband's hand and led him away. "We'll talk later, Zachary, Michelle!" Maximillian could only shake his head. Just like that they were out of sight in mere seconds.

"How are you enjoying the party, Mademoiselle Reynaud? You know, I'm actually a keen fan of your music," Zachary started working his conversational magic, the very talent that got him going to all these events in the first place. Unlike most of his comrades, he had been specially trained in the art of banter and pleasantry since he was ten. It was a privilege, or perhaps a burden, one received for being born into a noble Prussian family.

"You are too kind, Major. I wish I could say the same about your… recent accomplishments." She gave him the faintest smile, her eyes looking down at her glass.

Stifling a slight cough, he changed the subject. "So, are you here with anyone tonight?"

"Yes, I am here with a friend. She is sitting over-" Michelle peered over his shoulder. Her eyes narrowed. "It seems as though she has already left. Please excuse me, Major. I should really go look for her. It's her first time at such an event."

"It was nice meeting you. I'm very much looking forward to your next concert," he raised his glass to hers.

"Thank you. Have a nice evening, Major," she courteously sipped down her wine.

Just as Michelle went out of view, a wolf whistle from behind drew his attention. Turning around, Zachary found a man with short curly blonde hair smirking at him. The man was Johan von Fritsch, First Lieutenant of the 12th Artillery Division and his most wanted man of the night.

"Champagne? Really? I thought this was supposed to be a German party," Johan remarked, downing his beer cup in one go."

* * *

><p><strong>Meanwhile<strong>

A lone maiden stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. She was relishing in this quiet solitude, away from all the commotion going on back inside. She needed to get some fresh air. It had simply been too suffocating, even though she had barely come near any guest the whole evening.

The heavy clouds had hidden the moon tonight. No stars were visible either. She opened up her palm to catch the falling drops of water from the earlier rain. From here, she could spot the Eiffel Tower, and also the flag now flying above it. Her fist clenched unconsciously at the view.

"Why is such a beauty standing out here all alone?" A male voice shook her out of her thoughts.

* * *

><p>Zachary had never been good at keeping his composure, unlike a certain man whose absence tonight had already spoiled much of his mood. He sauntered over to the snickering Johan, who looked wonderfully comfortable with two beautiful ladies on his sides.<p>

"Ladies, could you please give us a minute alone?" Zachary asked politely, earning himself a playful wink from one of the girls.

"Come back later! I have more medals to sho –" Johan teasingly called after them.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" Zachary hissed through his teeth.

"Just keeping those lovely ladies company," Johan shrugged, taking another gulp of his beer. In truth, he too had not been enjoying this party. Much like he never enjoyed pretty much everything else in his life, save the moments on the battlefield.

"I meant for the past week. And by the way, I could have used a bit of that company." Zachary sat down, crossing both his arms and legs.

"From what I saw, you were doing just fine back there. She had a nice ass," Johan leaned back on the sofa, throwing his head back.

"We were _making conversation_! And don't use that kind of language with me," Zachary grunted.

"Lighten up, pretty boy. So, what's up?" Johan lit his cigarette and released a puff of smoke into the air.

Zachary covered his nose. If he did not die on the battlefield, he would not die of lung cancer. "By order of the Marshal, our group is to station in Lyon starting next month."

"Huh. Is that so?" His voice did not show the slightest hint of surprise, or care.

"Yes, that's so! So start packing your things!" Zachary was just about ready to stand up and leave. He was only here to finish Konrad's little assignment and he did.

"I, too, have some news for you," Johan cocked a sardonic eyebrow. "Do you want to hear the good one or the bad one first?" His fingers flicked the cigarette's ashes onto the marble floor.

"Just spill them out already," Zachary's patience with this man was running out. It was a good thing he had left his gun at home.

Johan mulled over his cup. "I heard the Gestapo will be arriving in France soon. I'm guessing some of them will be tagging along to Lyon. Their Captain is already here in town, some guy named Nikolaus."

"Of that I am already well-informed. Thank you," Zachary snorted, but not just at his friend's remark.

The Gestapo. Zachary never really cared for those buffoons. Coming from a Prussian family with a long-standing military tradition, Zachary was every bit as proud as he was vain. He refused to acknowledge this _criminal_ organization as part of the German militarism. The rumours circulating recently about what they were doing over in Poland already sickened him.

"Maybe this second news will cheer you up. I saw dear, sweet Ameline today at her papa's office," Johan waited for his friend's reaction.

"What?! What's she doing in France?" Zachary almost spilled his drink, looking all baffled.

'_This child…_ _He is too easy to read.' _Johan had always thought. "How should I know? She's _your_ fiancée. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get another refill." Johan patted his friend's shoulder and rushed to a group of actresses nearby.

The night was still young.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing out here all alone, beautiful?"<p>

The girl turned around to find a group of German soldiers, obviously drunk, staring at her like a pack of hungry wolves. She took a cautious step back. _'As if this night had not been bad enough already'._

"Come play with us." One of them walked up and put his arm around her waist.

"Officer, please mind your manners," she said, tossing his hand away from her body.

"Feisty this one is. I like her," another one chimed in.

Realizing it would be a waste of time trying to talk any sense into any of them, she rushed past the ones currently blocking the entrance.

"Hey, where are you going?" One of them grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

"Let go of me!" she shouted and her nails dug into his hand. She was done being polite with them.

"You little bitch," he pushed her to the ground and raised his hand, ready to strike down.

"I suggest you put down your arm and cease your harassment with the lady." A voice from behind startled them all. The drunken man stopped dead in his tracks as he faced the intruder.

"Ge…Ge…General!" Immediately they stood to attention and saluted their commander.

Pulling herself up, the girl looked over to her savior, as blue eyes met silver ones.

**End of Chapter 2**

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><p><span><strong>Author's note:<strong>

I know the pace is a bit slow but I want to properly flesh out my characters first.

You may have guessed: Maximillian = Mamoru; Susanna = Usagi; Michelle = Michiru

**Historical notes:**

Atlantic Wall: a system of coastal fortifications built by Germany along the western coast of France and other European countries to defend against anticipated Allied invasions. Lyon is about 400 miles away from the Normandy coast.

The Gestapo was an organization of secret police responsible for matters of security and racial policy in Germany and later in occupied Europe. They were not a part of the German Army.


	3. Silver and Gold

_For the sake of the story, let's assume they all speak the same language._

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 – Silver and Gold<strong>

It was not like Marianne had never seen beautiful men before. Au contraire, she had worked with many male co-stars who were all but blessed with charming faces and eye-catching features, the kinds that sold out tickets and captured young maidens' hearts at first glance. Yet here she was, gazing upon this German soldier in all his glory. Handsome would not be quite the appropriate word to describe this being. Intimidating? His subordinates had dared not move an inch and neither had her body. Captivating? Her eyes had never left his face this whole time.

At first it was the sheer number of medals he was wearing that got her attention. His uniform's insignia indicated a position of high authority. _'What did they call him? General?' _Marianne searched at the back of her mind. His medals were displayed in specific descending order of military achievements, as far as she could tell, his uniform tunic neatly tucked in. There was one thing amiss. His top button was left undone, exposing a small portion of his chest. '_It couldn't have been intentional'? _This little peculiar detail baffled her.

His short platinum-blonde hair was of a much lighter shade than hers, more silvery than buttery, with cleanly cut sideburns just barely reaching his ear lobes. His bangs were also kept short, only a few wispy locks, obviously a precaution against windy battlefields. For such a man of his look, he had chosen practicality over fashion.

Piercing silvery eyes whose expression revealed nothing were staring right at hers, carefully appraising. One could easily get lost in those icy orbs. Everything about him was screaming impenetrable fortress. The only parts exhibiting any human emotion were his eyebrows, which were slightly furrowing perhaps in disapproval of his officers' misconduct.

"You there, Private, help the lady to her feet," he commanded, his voice deep and stern.

Marianne flustered at his words, but not because she had been expecting the knight in shining armor to sweep his damsel in distress off her feet. '_Definitely not!' _she yelled inwardly_._ She merely did not want those men laying another finger on her body.

She tossed her waist-length hair over her shoulder, veiling the creamy naked skin exposed by her low-back dress, and quickly got on her feet before the Private could carry out his order. She stood, in her golden gown and her equally golden hair, a glow of brilliant yellow against the dark blue sky.

"May I please be excused now, officers?" Her question was directed at all six men on the scene, while her tone implied it was intended for the particular stonewall standing in the doorway. Seeing their superior had yet to say anything, the other men dared not breathe a word. Not waiting any longer for a reply, she strutted forward, stopped before the living obstacle, and looked up at him, navy blue eyes not afraid of meeting his. Their eyes met for a battle of intense gaze, silver against blue.

He then simply stepped aside. In the fleeting instant that she brushed past him, a distinct scent, that of honey and sunshine, penetrated his senses.

"…didn't even… thank you to the General, ungrateful little..." one of the men behind them muttered. His fellow soldiers shot him desperate glares, as if begging the man to stop talking. He was too drunk to realize he had not kept his voice low enough. Barely half-way from the balcony, Marianne stopped.

"It is not _she_ who should say thank you. It is _we_ who owe her an apology," the General corrected, loudly and clearly, as he shot his subordinates a menacing look before sauntering after Marianne.

"I, General Konrad Dietrich of the German Army, humbly apologize to you for the inappropriate manners my officers have displayed tonight," said the gravelly voice above her head. She could tell he was standing right behind her. His large shadows loomed over hers on the stone floor of the dimly lit corridor.

"Why should I accept _your_ apology, when it was _they_ who wronged me?" she stressed, copying his tone earlier. Konrad did not see her lips were curving into a smile for her back was to him, and she missed his just the same. The other men could only stare in astonishment at the boldness of the French girl.

"Konrad!" a familiar voice interrupted Konrad just as he was about to speak. "I thought I heard voices out here. Didn't you say you weren't coming?" Zachary's excited voice filled the corridor. His face had never looked more alive tonight.

"I said nothing of the sort," came Konrad's only reply.

"…could've at least told me…" Zachary mumbled, turning his attention to the stranger before him. His eyes slightly dilated in surprise as he registered her face. The lonely figure from before had managed to find new company, and not just any company_._

"And who is this lovely lady?" Zachary smiled courteously at her, his eyes not letting pass how close Konrad and the French beauty were standing to each other.

"Marianne!" Immediately a female figure rushed to Marianne's side. "There you are."

"Michelle." Marianne gave her friend a placid nod, visibly annoyed by the second intrusion.

"Major Keitel, I see you have met my friend." Michelle put a protective arm around Marianne's and herself between the two parties.

"So the beautiful lady is your friend. I should have guessed." The curiosity was evident in his eyes.

"This is Marianne Lavigne, one of French cinema's fledgling artist."

"I can speak for myself, you know," huffed Marianne.

"An actress? So young?" Zachary carefully analyzed the girl who looked to be only in her late-teens.

"She is not yet well-known here, but back in Lyon, Marianne is quite the household name."

"Lyon?" Zachary asked, visibly surprised. Even Konrad could not hide his similar reaction.

"We are from Lyon," answered Michelle.

"You must be kidding. _We're_ moving to Lyon! Isn't that right, Konrad?" He cast a dispassionate glance at Konrad and quickly continued. "Perhaps we'll see you there."

"Yes, perhaps we shall," Marianne remarked, her eyes fixed on the stoic General.

"So what movies have you starred in, Marianne? I would love to check them out," Zachary asked with the utmost interest in his voice, bringing her attention back to him.

An eternity of minutes later, after the Major was done with all his questions, and only because Konrad had subtly cleared his throat, Michelle and Marianne bid them goodnight and took their leave. Just as Marianne was about to turn at the corner, a husky voice called after her.

"Lady Marianne, it seems I failed to settle your little incident properly tonight. However, if you are in Lyon and ever in need of assistance, I'll be waiting in my office."

She did not reply.

"As for you five," Konrad said, not glancing back, to the seemingly forgotten men who had been shivering out in the balcony all this time. "I expect you in my office tomorrow morning by 7 o'clock. Dismissed"

"What was that all about?" questioned Zachary after they were out of hearing. "Why were you two out here? And what –"

"Goodnight, Zach."

"Konrad Dietrich, you stop right there!"

* * *

><p>Outside the dark clouds had drifted away, baring behind them an empty black field. The palely illuminated streets of Paris against the moonless night sky seemed full of loneliness and forlorn beauty. Curtains had fallen on a thousand windows, their lights extinguished, as Paris fell into its slumber. A short line of moving lights crept upon the desolated avenue, among them stood out a gleaming limousine gliding its way along the lonely gravel path, heading for the uptown hotel.<p>

Peering out of the rain-streaked windows of her limousine, Marianne lazily rested her head against the frame. Silky golden hair tumbled in a cascade down her back. Opposite sat Michelle, her friend and mentor in the show business. They had been quiet for most of the ride, worn-out from the party.

"About earlier… You may want to keep away from those Germans in the future," Michelle finally spoke.

"I'm not scared of any German," answered Marianne staunchly, with a certain silvery figure in her mind. He had called her by her given name, Marianne recalled.

"I had told you not to wander off by yourself. Did you at least meet with the casting director?" For this very reason Michelle had insisted that Marianne come along. Gifted as she was, good roles didn't always come so naturally to young actresses. Tonight an opportunity had presented itself. There was an upcoming movie to be shot in Lyon by one of French top directors, one of whom happened to attend the event.

"I did. But I'm not sleeping with that pig, if that is what you're suggesting!" cried Marianne.

"I will not go that far, but you'll still need to pamper him a little."

"Fine…" she yielded unwillingly. Her ego was strong, but not enough to undermine her shrewdness. "To be honest, I haven't given that much thought to this role ever since the war started." Before, acting was all she ever concerned herself with.

"I understand. But it's all over now, and soon this chance will be if you don't take it." The role was perfect for her, and the film would be shot right in her hometown. Marianne would be a fool not to jump at this opportunity.

"I miss Lyon already." Marianne closed her eyes and let her mind roam the streets of Lyon, ones gleaming with different colors and candles, the Festival of Lights.

* * *

><p><strong>Lyon, July 1940<strong>

"I love this town. There's an airy and welcoming feeling to it. It reminds me of my home back in Prussia. Don't you think so, Konrad? And I can see the river from my office room, and that magnificent bell by the church." Zachary went on with unrestrained enthusiasm.

The grandest hotel in Lyon was requisitioned as their military headquarter, with the largest room reserved for the currently highest authority in town, none other than Konrad himself. His room was modest in decoration, with a tall bookcase facing his desk and occupying much of the space. On the wall to its right side was a pane of cut-up windows of 8 feet tall. A large portrait framed in ebony hung proudly on the wall behind his seat, on it Frederick the Great of Prussia.

"Would you shut up already?" cried Johan, stifling his yawn. He had stayed up late last night, for whatever nocturnal activities only he would know.

"Well, excuse me for enjoying this beautiful morning."

"Enough, you two," ordered Konrad.

It was their first day in office in Lyon. Konrad had called in his two closest men to discuss matters of deployment and security. A knock on the door interrupted before he could give them a proper lecture on officer etiquette.

"General, the Gestapo has arrived. Their Captain is here to see you."

"Thank you. Please send him in."

Zachary huffed in annoyance and crossed his arm. Moments later, the door swung open and in stepped a well-built man over 6 feet tall. He was the second tallest man in the room behind Konrad.

"Morning, General, gentlemen." He saluted Konrad and made a perfunctory nod at the other men, one of whom was glaring daggers at him for unknown reasons. "Nikolaus Herschel of the Gestapo, at your service."

"Welcome to Lyon, Captain." Konrad gestured for him to sit down. "There are a few things I want to go over with you. First, the Gestapo's headquarter has already been requisitioned and is three blocks from here, the Private outside will escort you there. Second, I want a complete report of the personnel under your administration on my desk by this afternoon. Third, I do not hold jurisdiction over your operations, nevertheless, you are to report to me should any hostile dispute arise."

"Alright, sir…" All the rumors Nikolaus had heard about this General seemed true after all.

"That is all for now. You are dismissed." Nikolaus bowed at Konrad and left.

"Oh My God. What was up with his hair? Did you see those boots? And what was that bizarre accent? Austrian?" exclaimed Zachary as if he had just witnessed a human travesty.

"Then perhaps you should give him a makeover", suggested Johan.

"For the last time–" Konrad rubbed his temple furiously.

* * *

><p><strong>Lyon, August 1940<strong>

Marianne could not be happier to finally be back home, or so she had thought. So much had changed in a couple of months. The usual lively streets of Lyon were now filled with German soldiers patrolling, pedestrians quietly moving along, with fear written across their faces. Many people shut themselves inside their homes. All lights were out before 9pm to avoid unwanted attention. The atmosphere back at her house was not much different.

"I hear they are rounding up Jews," her father commented, nervously.

"So what? We'll be fine as long as we don't intervene in their affairs." Her mother did not hesitate for one second before blurting it out.

"Mom, how could you say such a thing!" cried Marianne as once again she had to run outside to avoid looking at the self-centered woman whom she called mother.

Her back against a tree, she closed her eyes and fought back the anger. _'Many of their friends and relatives are Jewish, and one of them is her -'_

"Annie!" Someone shouted her name.

Marianne did not need to turn around to see who it was, or what urgent news the person may have brought. She clenched her fist as she waited for the dreaded words.

A tall brunette girl stopped before her, panting heavily, disheveled hair dangling all over her face. She was wearing mismatched shoes. Catching her breath, she cried out.

"They just took Roxanne and her family!"

**End of Chapter 3**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's note:<strong>

I feel bad for cutting Kunzite's hair but it seemed more appropriate.

Just a quick summary of the guys' profiles so far:  
>Konrad Dietrich, 27 years old, General.<br>Zachary Keitel, 24 years old, Major.  
>Johan von Fritsch, 25 years old, First Lieutenant.<br>Nikolaus Herschel, 25 years old, Captain (Gestapo).

**Historical notes:**

Festival of Lights: a French local tradition held in Lyon every 8th of December when every house places candles along the outsides of all the windows, lighting up the streets.

Frederick II, known as Frederick the Great, was Prussia's king from 1740 to 1786. He was a brilliant ruler and military thinker. By winning wars against the great European nations and expanding territories, he established Prussia as a major power. Sadly, his personal life was a tragic story. _(For another chapter, perhaps)_


	4. Roxanne

**Chapter 4 – Roxanne**

Inside a prison cell on the other side of town, a group of people were huddling together, their faces weary and their bodies trembling, knowing any moment could be their last. Men, women, children, elders, all had been taken from their homes and denied a reason why. Many had died on the way here, having put up resistance.

"Mommy, when can I go home to Teddy?" spoke a young girl. Her mother did not answer but simply pulled her into an embrace while their fellow cellmates watched with silent sympathy.

"I'm hungry, mommy," the girl cried, her voice getting louder by the minute. Her mother, afraid of alerting the guards who were all too eager to jump at any chance for harassment, muffled her child's scream with her own hands.

"You shouldn't do that. You'll suffocate her." The miserable woman turned around to look for the source of the gentle voice.

"Here, you can have this."

A hand reached down and opened up in front of them, on it a small bar of chocolate, already melted in half. The mother looked up to find its owner, a beautiful girl young of age. Her daughter looked back and forth between her mother and the pretty lady, her cry stifled, before hesitantly took the small treat into her hand and gobbled it down.

"Thank you, kind lady," the little girl said with the sweetest smile. "And you're so pretty."

Indeed she was. But hers was not the usual visually stunning type of beauty to be found every day on streets' movie posters. Raven black hair. She had the aura of a feudal princess, full of elegance and grace. Even after hours of confinement in subhuman conditions, the exhaustion had not taken its toll on her spirit.

Her posture were relaxed and dignified. But the look in her eyes, those of violet, the color of spirituality and nobility, was anything but gentle. There was a spark of fire, burning bright with anger. Just like her name.

Roxanne.

"What's with all the commotion?"

People immediately backed away to the corners as the Gestapo guard made his way to their holding cell, in his hand, an iron club. His eyes like a hawk's, cold and vicious, scanned the room while his feet were dragging across the floor, slowly and agonizingly.

"You there. Woman with the baby. Come forward," he commanded, his club pointing at the mother and her child, both of whom were as white as a ghost.

"Yes… officer?"

"Is that chocolate on her mouth? Did you sneak food in here?" The child trembled under his vicious stare.

Her mother was already kicked to the ground before she could even answer. Covering her child with her body, she readied herself for any beating.

"Stop!" shouted Roxanne, putting herself between them and their oppressor, her hands restraining his club from striking down. "It was mine. I gave it to them."

"You have some nerve, girl. Step aside. I'll deal with you later."

He tried to shove her aside but her grip only tightened on his weapon. Despite her appearances, Roxanne was no delicate flower.

"Roxanne, stop!" an elder man ran forward, and immediately he was on his knees, frantically clutching the guard's foot. "Officer, please, forgive us," he begged.

"Grandpa, what are you doing?" Roxanne would not have her grandfather lowering himself to the likes of this.

"Get off my leg, old man, or you won't keep yours for long."

As much as she hated to do this, Roxanne knew she had no other choice. Quickly she leaned closer to the guard and whispered just enough for the two of them to hear. "My father is Damien Delacroix. Lay a hand on this man and you'll be sorry for the rest of your life."

"The French minister's daughter is a Jew?" he snorted but put down his arm nevertheless.

"You think I'm bluffing? Go check. It's not like I'm going anywhere," replied Roxanne boldly, her eyes full of challenge.

If the guard was intimidated, he hid his reaction well. Clearing his throat, he turned around to the rest of the room. "All of you keep quiet down here. The next time I hear any noise, somebody is going to get it."

He walked off, but not before sparing Roxanne another murderous glance. The room went back to its silence.

"Are you alright?" Roxanne helped her grandfather to his feet.

"I'm fine, child. You, on the other hand, need to stop giving this old man a heart attack. We need to stay safe until your father comes get us out."

Her father, or estranged father, to be exact, was the new French minister. If their relationship was already strained when he chose to neglect his family in favor of political advance, it was further broken the moment he declared himself part of the new pro-German-occupied government. They had not seen each other in years, but it seemed right now he was their last hope.

Roxanne had noticed a certain figure was observing them from behind the bars. He was standing on the stairs, his back against the walls, his face void of any emotion, as if watching a play come to its anticlimactic finish. His golden locks shimmered with a sunshine glow, yet his sapphire eyes were as cold as the deep, dark ocean.

If there was anything Roxanne loathed more than oppression, it was indifference. Misguided behaviors could always be amended. However, there was no cure for indifference, she believed. People who stood by in the face of injustice were no better than those who inflicted it.

His uniform was different from that of the guards here, she had noted. But it made no difference, for they were monsters all the same to her. She was watching him watching her. His emotionless face turned into an amused look as he seemed to have spotted the look of contempt in her eyes, and he smirked. Irritated and embarrassed by the gesture, Roxanne turned away.

Not long after, a group of guards came down with trays full of what looked like leftovers from their afternoon meal.

"All right, you people. Meal time. Come up here and take your food when I call out your name."

"Enjoy it. Might be your last meal," one of the other guards cackled.

When Roxanne turned back to the bars, the earlier man was gone. Patiently she waited for her turn.

"Roxanne Delacroix!"

When Roxanne walked past the guards she could feel their hungry eyes feasting after her. She had hated men for a reason. Suddenly her body tensed as she felt a presence lurking behind, and it was definitely not a pleasant one.

"You know, I might be able to get you out of here," spoke a male voice. Roxanne froze in her tracks.

He continued. "But it'll be just you though, not your grandpapa," followed by a low chuckle.

She did not reply nor did she even turn around.

"No?"

Still there was no response.

Roxanne shuddered slightly as the voice was getting closer, its breaths tickling on the skin of her neck. "Do you know what those guys over there will do to you? When nighttime comes and suddenly they get lonely…" he whispered slowly. "At least I won't share my-"

"Burn in hell." She grunted and shot him a look as if she were trying to vaporize him into ashes.

"Suit yourself."

Johan smirked at her retreating back. _'What is it with these French girls?'_ Not that it mattered, for he was not here to pick up desperate chicks.

* * *

><p>Zachary had asked Johan to make a 'friendly' visit to the Gestapo headquarter when the former had received words of massive civilian arrests.<p>

"So?" the long-haired blonde inquired.

"Yes, it's true. They've rounded up all the Jews in the city." Johan let out a long sigh and slumped down in the sofa. He had barely made it back to his office for five minutes.

"And do what with them?!" demanded Zachary.

Johan chuckled and shook his head. They both knew perfectly well what fate awaited those poor souls.

"They've got orders from above. There's nothing you can do. Just drop it," said Johan.

"We don't hurt civilians. That's a soldier's honor code!" Zachary cried out in frustration, his fists slamming down on the desk.

"Well, technically they're not soldiers," Johan chimed in with his usual touch of humor.

"Can you get serious for once! This is a matter of-"

"Ladies, as I've said, you are not allowed to come inside."

The voices outside interrupted yet another one of Zachary's Konrad-inspired speech, much to Johan's relief. Quickly they went to check on the commotion.

"What is going on?" Zachary inquired the officer currently struggling with two figures in the hallway.

"Major! These two ladies suddenly barged in here and demanded to see the General," he said.

Zachary narrowed his green eyes as the unwelcomed guests came into his full view. One of them was already known to him. He strode forward and dismissed his subordinate.

"Lady Marianne Lavigne? What brings you here?" Zachary asked, his tone flat and serious.

"I need to see General Konrad. It's urgent," Marianne said in her earnest voice.

She had only come here as a last resort, having contacted other people in her network, all of whom were either out of town or unwilling to get involved with the notorious Gestapo. Her friend Gabrielle had come along despite her own protests.

"And what business do you have with him?" Zachary pressed on with his questions.

"I…"

Marianne was initially taken aback by the Zachary's newfound attitude. The man she was speaking to right now was definitely not the same one she'd met two months ago. She understood people had to put on different masks on such occasions, still it was incomprehensible for Marianne as she was quite sure the Major had shown some interest in her.

"He once said he still owed me a favor. I need his help," Marianne answered.

"As I recalled he had said no such thing. I was there," Zachary was becoming increasingly unrelenting, to his own surprise.

"Why are you being so difficult all of a sudden?" she couldn't help but say it out loud.

If Zachary was angered by her remark, he didn't show it. "Excuse me. But this is a military headquarter. You will abide by our rules or I shall have you escorted out," he replied in a professional manner.

"Fine. I will just say it. Why have you Germans taken our Jewish people? What have they done wrong?"

"That… is none of our concern. I'm afraid you'll have to take this matter to the Gestapo office," replied Zachary, dropping his gaze to the floor momentarily.

"Come on, Annie. I told you this wouldn't work." Gabrielle tugged at Marianne's arm and led them both out. She had known before coming here this was an ill-fated attempt.

"Please. If you could, at least help my friend. Her name is Roxanne Delacroix," Marianne called over her shoulder for one last desperate plea.

Johan emerged from the corner after the two were out of sight.

"What happened to all your deep sympathy for innocent civilians just a while ago?" asked Johan.

"Does it matter? Like you said, there's nothing we can do," Zachary muttered under his breath, walking back to his office and slamming the door behind him.

'_Did she say her friend's name was Roxanne?'_ Johan thought to himself.

* * *

><p>Two groups of prisoners had already been moved out to who-knew-where, leaving just a few people left in the empty cell, Roxanne and her grandfather included.<p>

"Why hasn't your father come for us? Surely he's known by now," said her grandfather.

"Grandpa..." There was nothing she could say.

Roxanne was Jewish only on her mother's side. Given her father's new affiliation, she had expected the worst scenario where he would choose to turn a blind eye on their doomed fate. And it seemed that fate was knocking on their door right now, as a group of Gestapo officers armed with guns made their way into the room.

"Take them outside," their leader commanded.

Roxanne clung on to her grandfather as they tried to yank him away. Around them other people were already bursting into tears, desperately crying out for their lives.

"Grandpa!" cried Roxanne, this time, even her pride could not hold back the tears.

Her grandfather glanced back at her for one last time before they dragged him away. Roxanne would never forget that look.

"This girl," the Gestapo leader pointed at Roxanne. "She stays. I'll let her join them later. But for now…" A wicked smile formed on his face.

"Just kill me!" she yelled as two men pushed her to the ground and started ripping off her clothes.

Her fists clenched so tightly her nails were digging through her own skin. Roxanne stifled her own cry, refusing to give in to their humiliation. Her eyes opened wide and glared at them in defiance. Still her body could not help but tremble when their leader started making his way towards her, his despicable face filled with lust. Panic, frustration, and agony crept through her mind.

A series of laughter, shouting, and deafening noises followed.

Roxanne screamed out loud and squeezed her eyes shut when she felt his body fall atop her, but when she opened them again, the other two men were also on the ground. A stream of red liquid began to fill the floor, some of which was dribbling down from the man's body and onto her arm.

They were all dead.

Quickly shoving the body aside, Roxanne picked herself up and wiped the tears from her face, her hands still shaking.

Coming footsteps halted behind her. A voice she recognized.

"Run. Now. And don't look back."

And she ran.

* * *

><p>"Do you realize what you just did?" Zachary yelled at the top of his lungs. "Just wait until Konrad hears about this…" he went on.<p>

Johan was busy with his cigarette, his eyes focusing on the dark clouds gathering outside their windows. It looked like the sky would be sobbing heavily tonight. Lost in his own thoughts, Johan did not take in any of Zachary's words, but the Major was too preoccupied with his own speech to notice.

"-what in the world possessed you to do it? Were there not enough girls available in town?"

"… my sister" Johan mumbled incorently.

"What'd you say?" Zachary turned around to look at his comrade.

"She reminded me of my sister."

Zachary said nothing more after that.

**End of chapter 4**


	5. Orchards in Autumn

_A/N:__ I edited the summary. The old one seemed too much like an exclusive M/K story.  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 – Orchards in Autumn<br>**

**Lyon, late September 1940**

The sun had barely made its way up the sky of Lyon, its faint light yet to bring any warmth to the early Autumn morning, yet many people were already out greeting the new day. By the town church, a small little cafe had just welcomed its first customer of the day.

A young woman rushed to the table, her brunette hair, tied up in a high ponytail, bounced with each eager step she took. Taking out her notepad, she flashed her guest a welcoming smile.

"Good morning, Mrs. Laurent. What will you be having today? The usual?" she spoke with a great zest.

"Yes, thank you, dear." The elder woman had to turn her head a near 45 degree as her attendant was very tall, much taller than the average girl.

"One Gabrielle's breakfast special coming right up," cried her cheerful voice.

Back in her kitchen and wasting no time, Gabrielle got to work. The young chef hummed merrily as she prepared the food, her movements swift and practiced, each slice going down precisely and effortlessly, seasoning sprinkling down without interruption. Cooking was one of Gabrielle's greatest passion and talent. Her family's cafe was only a small business but never short of customers, all thanks to her cuisine specialty.

Soon the whole kitchen was filled with the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread and Gabrielle had added the finishing touch to her dishes.

"Bring this to Mrs. Laurent, will you?" she said, handing one of the plates to the waiter.

She picked up the other plate and opened the back door that led to the inner house. Walking past the orchard and down another corridor, she stopped at the small storage room and knocked.

"Ro- Renée, it's me. I've brought breakfast."

The door opened to reveal a dark, cramped room and sitting on the broken bed, Roxanne Delacroix, or Renée-her new alias.

"Thank you," Roxanne muttered softly as she took the plate from her friend.

"Is the food okay? Do you need anything else?" asked Gabrielle.

Roxanne looked down at the plate in her hand, the freshly baked baguettes were arranged in the shape of a smiley, the comforting smell of hot coffee warming up her body. Gently she shook her head.

"I've already owed you and your family my life. Please don't make it harder for me," she said with a low voice, "And as long as it's your cooking, you know I have no complaint." Roxanne smiled at her friend, albeit weakly.

"Be strong, Roxanne. Just hold on for a few more days. Come next month when the last settlement is clear, it'll be safe to go out," Gabrielle said encouragingly, covering Roxanne's cold hands with hers. "I'll be back at noon."

Roxanne watched the door close before setting the plate down and walking over to the window. She opened up the blinds to let the light shine through. Outside the apple orchard had been awoken by the daylight, painting a picturesque mixture of red and green.

It was not that Gabrielle's food was bad, quite the contrary, hers was one of the finest she'd ever tasted. It was not that she was scared of getting caught. It was because she had lost her appetite, and possibly forever. Her grandpa, the only family she had left in this world was gone, and to this moment Roxanne couldn't get the traumatic image of that day out of her mind.

Here she was, risking another family's life for her own. That day she had run here of all places when her mind was numb and there was no second to spare for idle thoughts. Gabrielle and her parents had taken her in without hesitation.

Yes. Just a few more days and she could get back outside. Then what?

* * *

><p>Nikolaus Herschel ruffled his hair as he made his way down the soldier-packed hall, their looks of contempt following him all the way through. His indifferent face showed he held no regard for their attitude, but his twitching hand might indicate otherwise. Business with the military body always put him on the edge.<p>

Stopping at the opened door to the grandest room on the floor, he took a deep breath and entered.

"You wanted to see me?"

Konrad looked up from the stack of reports on his desk and beckoned for the Gestapo Captain to sit down.

"Yes. I've called you here regarding the latest news of the Free French Forces," he spoke, his voice calm and intimidating as usual. "As you might have heard, there have been reports of ongoing civilian recruits and anti-German movements around town. It seems the rebels have set up a new base in Lyon." His face was too grim for Nikolaus' liking.

"For what do you need me? Shouldn't the army be handling this?" Nikolaus questioned.

"We are looking into it. So far I've narrowed down three key areas suspected to be their hideouts. However, since we've yet to find any real evidence, involving the army at this stage will only alert the enemies."

"So you want the Gestapo to do it, correct?" Nikolaus commented, passing a mental sigh of relief.

"Yes. I want you to take a small group to investigate these areas under the pretense of a… Jewish search." Zachary had disagreed with him over this course of action, but to Konrad this was the most feasible at the moment. "Report to me immediately if anything unusual turns up." he stressed.

"Understood." Nikolaus nodded. For a ruthless General on the battlefield, he cared a bit too much for other civilians, Nikolaus thought.

"And…I apologize for my soldier's action concerning the August incident at the Gestapo prison," Konrad said, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"No hard feelings, General. From what I've heard, it seems my guards were disobeying the rules… dallying with the prisoner," said Nikolaus, smiling wryly.

He was out of town attending to other business on that day. When he got back, three of his guards were dead and one Jewish prisoner had escaped, though from what his subordinates reported, the Lieutenant insisted that he had pursued and shot the girl, her body falling into the river, irretrievable. This incident came to further prove just how much the army looked down on the Gestapo.

"I wouldn't blame Lieutenant von Fritsch for his action. However, I wish he would have let the Gestapo settle their own problem," Nikolaus paused, "What happened to him? Has he…?"

Konrad shook his head. "No, he's alive. But he's being suspended from office… indefinitely."

"That's good to hear. If that is all, I'll take my leave now. Good day, General."

Nikolaus unfolded the list and ran through the names of suspected areas.

_Belliveau Publishing House  
>Hotel Le Royal<br>Verger des Pommes Cafe_

His lips curved into a smile.

* * *

><p>Amidst the rubble and crumbling buildings, a pair of young lovers stood facing each other, just a few yards apart. The girl was visibly fighting hard to keep herself from trembling, her pent-up emotions bubbling on the surface, ready to burst forth at any moment. Sluggishly the man struggled to drag his blood-covered body across the only remaining distance that separated them. When their bodies were only inches away from each other, she finally smiled at him, and tears began to well up on the soldier's hardened face.<p>

As he reached out to cup her face, her eyes narrowed in a strange way. His hand stopped in mid-air. His own eyes widened in recognition as a loud bang deafened his ear and the feel of the piercing bullet engulfed his other senses. He fell down on his knees, peering up at her one last time before his body finally hit the ground. A gun dropped to his side, its owner standing perfectly still. Another smile, this time much more genuine and tragic, drew on her face as she shut her eyes, letting a lone tear creep its way down her cheek. Her lips whispered his name one last time.

"William…"

"Cut!"

At the shout the man on the ground pulled himself up and wiped the dust from his face. "Are we good? I've been shot twice today!" he laughed.

"That's a wrap. Great job, everybody. Alright, let's take five," the director said through his megaphone.

"Great scene back there, Marianne!", "Good job!" The film crew cheered as Marianne walked by.

"Thank you, you too!" she replied heartily at their compliments before settling down on her reserved seat.

Taking off her props, she sighed contentedly. At this rate they would finish the film in time for the light festival in December. This movie was her first project after the whole German ordeal had died down. In the end, her dear friend Roxanne was safe and that was more than Marianne could wish for.

Hearing the footsteps closing behind, she turned around.

"Can I borrow a minute of the great star?" spoke her new company, a man looking in mid-thirties.

"Arthur! Stop teasing me!" she said with a beam.

"I'm just speaking the truth."

Arthur was Marianne's fellow actor and another mentor of hers. He was the one who had discovered her talent and guided her in her acting career. More importantly, he was like a second father to her, albeit being much younger than her biological one.

"So, I hear they'll be playing Les Misérables tonight down at the theater?" Marianne spoke softly, just loud enough for the two of them.

Their conversation was quickly interrupted by the noises coming from behind, a woman's voice atop of them.

"You clumsy, dim-witted man! You've ruined my costume!" cried a shrill female voice.

A woman of striking beauty, with fiery red hair and a voluptuous figure, was scolding one of the crew member. The poor man was bowing frantically, trying to apologize to no avail. She tossed the curly waves of crimson over her shoulder, her sharp eyes scrutinizing as if they were about to devour the man whole.

Rising her chin up in a proud gesture, she spoke to the man, but loudly enough for everyone on set to hear, "What do you mean you were distracted by the lovers' scene? What kind of excuse is that?" she slashed out mercilessly, but not without class-the kind of spiteful grace. "It wasn't even that good," she sneered, briefly glancing over at Marianne.

"Don't mind her. You did a wonderful job," spoke Arthur, shaking Marianne attention off the unpleasant scene.

This was not a rare occurrence on set. Whenever the director was not around, Beatrice Traver would throw all kinds of tantrum, but even if he was, it wouldn't change much. She was nationally renowned actress, and what was more, her father was the head German ambassador in France.

"I think she's right," Marianne mumbled, her gaze dropping. In truth she had not been completely satisfied with her own performance. It felt as though there were certain parts of this character she had yet to grasp, but Marianne had let it slide because she was eager to finish this project to get on with a new role, the one she truly set her heart on and took a lot of hard work to get.

"Anyway," Arthur cleared his throat, closing the gap between them and continued where he had left off earlier, "Yes, Les Misérables will be shown tonight at eight. I'll be expecting you then. Bye for now." Swiftly he handed her a folded piece of paper.

Marianne gripped the object inside her palm and headed for her room before opening it up.

'_I think they might be onto us. Be careful when you arrive.'_

* * *

><p>It was past noon, and the customers of the Verger des Pommes could now enjoy their meals outside under the beautiful sunshine. Gabrielle Dupont, the 21-year-old lovely chef of the place, was at usual busy tending to her customers when a waiter came up to her all panicking and sweating.<p>

"Gabrielle! The Gestapo is here!"

"Calm down, Enrique." Gabrielle narrowed her eyes in deep thought for a short moment. "Here, take over with the guest for me. I'll handle it."

Standing at the entrance was four Gestapo guards. One of them clearly stood out from the rest, with unusually long hair for a man and of a dark auburn color, or perhaps it was because he was their leader, judging from the way he was holding his hands behind his back, a gesture of superior authority. He was also very tall, one of a few whom she'd met that surpassed her height.

Gabrielle put on a smile as she made her way over to greet them.

"For what do I owe the pleasure, officers? Are you here for a drink? Or perhaps a taste of our famous apple tarts?"

Nikolaus' eyes were still fixed on the sign of the cafe, written in flame-colored foliage.

"_Verger des Pommes"_… The Apple Orchard?

Turning his attention back to the lovely lady, he spoke.

"We're looking for a missing prisoner around this area. Mind if we have a look around?" Nikolaus asked. Actually, they really _were_ looking for a prisoner. Two birds, one stone. Something told Nikolaus the Lieutenant might had been less than honest with his words.

"Oh no, not at all. But you see, you've come during our working hour and I'm afraid your search might… scare away our customers. Can you please wait for a few more hours? We'll have a table set for you, free of charge," she pleaded sincerely. "After the other customers are gone, you can search our shop all you want. We won't interfere. Maybe you can think of this as a lunch break?" at that she gave him a rueful smile.

Gabrielle had tried her best to sound as sweetly as possible and most importantly to keep her composure. She needed to buy some time before she could come up with a better plan. Yet she knew this reason was clearly not good enough, especially when given their reputation.

That was why his next words caught both Gabrielle and his own guards by surprise.

"Alright, set it up."

Nikolaus chuckled after the frenetic girl running to the waiters for her life. In truth, she had caught him in a hungry mood, and the pungent aroma of food and beverage that had been penetrating his senses ever since he entered the cafe did not help either. A little break didn't seem so bad.

He was seated by the window overlooking the apple orchard currently in season. It was quite a lovely sight to behold. Apples in vibrant red colors, many were piled up in barrels while some were simply lying on the grassy ground, glimmered under the autumn afternoon sun. Green leaves were already half-burnished with fall hues. He could almost feel them rustle in the gentle breeze. Nikolaus pondered at the sensation of sitting under that orchard tree on an autumn day such as this one, preferably with the right person by his side.

"May I take your order?" Gabrielle asked, bringing his attention back to her.

Little miss waitress here did not seem so bad a company. He chuckled.

"I don't know. Why don't you pick something for me?" he said, leaning back on his seat in a relaxed manner.

"Then may I recommend a popular order of ours, the Gabrielle's special?" she smiled. This man was the first Gestapo officer Gabrielle had spoken to, and he seemed nothing liked what she had heard or imagined.

"Gabrielle?" he asked.

"That's my name. I'm the chef here," she said, scratching her head.

"It's a beautiful name, Gabrielle." He gave her a gentle smile, one that sent butterflies fluttering wildly inside her stomach. Gabrielle was mentally scolding herself. What was she doing? They were heartless killing machines.

"Thank you. I'll be back with your food in a moment." She made a polite bow and quickly went back to the kitchen.

Once safely hidden behind the kitchen door, she sunk to the floor, letting out a breath. Her hands were shaking. At times like these Gabrielle wished she had possessed Marianne's acting skills.

"What's going on, Gabrielle? Did they find out about Roxanne?" her mother rushed in, having heard of the Gestapo's arrival.

"I don't know. They say they're just searching around. But I think if they had known she was here, they would have got her already."

"What do we do now?" her mother panicked.

Gabrielle closed her eyes and concentrated for a good minute, not saying a word.

"Say something, Gabrielle!" cried her mother.

Sighing heavily, she walked up to whispered in her mother's ears. "Alright mom, this could be our only way. You must do exactly as I say."

Outside Nikolaus was examining the little cafe, in an appreciative way. It must have been managed by a woman, presumably the one he was speaking to just now. There were signs of floral decorations almost everywhere he looked. Vases of different kinds of flowers, mostly pink roses, were placed around the shop, all looking so fresh. The way in was also heavily decorated with roses, as he recalled. It was too flowery to be a rebels' hideout, which meant it could be just the perfect place.

Suddenly his eyes stopped moving as they fixed on a particular object on the wall, and almost uncontrollably, he burst out laughing.

"Captain, if I may ask, what's so funny?" inquired one of his guards.

"Nothing you can understand." Nikolaus shook his head.

His fellow officers looked all baffled as they tried to comprehend the article on the wall that got their leader in hysteria. They had known that their Captain did not hail from the most civilized places in Germany but his behaviors were bizarre at times. It was simply a picture of a young girl holding the French flag.

**End of Chapter 5**

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><p><strong>AN: **Arthur = Artemis, Beatrice = Beryl in case you missed them.

So the only one left who has yet to appear is Ami. What are you expecting of her? ;)

**H/N:**  
>The Free French Forces: the French government-in-exile and its military forces led by Charles de Gaulle that continued to fight against Germany after the fall of France. It was set up in June 1940, organizing and supporting the Resistance in occupied France.<p> 


	6. Larva

_A/N: I added a new scene to the Prologue.  
><em>

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><p><strong>Chapter 6 – Larva<strong>

Gabriel paced back and forth in front of the plates on her kitchen counter, all finished and ready to go. She could not remember the last time it had taken her this long to prepare her own signature dish. She could have done it with her eyes closed. Such was the nerve-wrecking toll of having a death squad waiting in your house when you were harboring their escaped prisoner.

There was no way to sneak Roxanne out of the restaurant. Her house had no back entrance and two Gestapo officers were standing guard at the front door, checking every guest leaving. That left only one thing to try. Gabrielle did not possess Marianne's flexibility or Roxanne's nerve of steel, but for all their sakes, she had dared risk challenging the devil.

When finally the kitchen door opened and in rushed her mother, looking every bit as nervous as her daughter, she straightened her form, ready for the battle.

"Everything's ready," her mother whispered.

"Did you remember to clear out the storage room?"

Her mother nodded. Allowing herself another short moment of self-encouragement, Gabrielle picked up the food tray and turned to her mother one last time before walking out to face their impending terror.

"All right. Mom, I need you to remain calm no matter what happens. Leave everything else to me."

The Gestapo leader welcomed her back with his genteel smile, going so far as to stand up to help with the plates. His officers did not share the same friendly manner. They wore the familiar cold, emotionless visage that better befitted their notoriety. The real devil often hid behind the most amiable mask. Was this the case with this gentleman? She could not help but wonder.

"This dish is a specialty of our region, the Lyonnaise potatoes." She watched nervously as they got started on their meals.

Even his eating manner was different from his fellow officers. This dish was popular among her German customers, but apparently not so to the Gestapo leader.

"Is the food not to your liking?"

"Of course not. It's delicious. Thank you." Nikolaus dropped his fork and turned to face her. "And you don't have to wait here for us. Go tend to your other customers."

"We're near closing hours, there aren't many customers left. This is the least I could do for interrupting your duty."

"It's quite all right, Gabrielle." He called her by her first name with such ease, as if they had known each other for a long time. "We'll make it quick and be on our way. As far as I'm concerned, this is just procedure." He brought another slice to his mouth. "But necessary, nevertheless." He swallowed, and slowly licked off the sauce from his fingers. His eyes were on her in the next moment. "Though I'm sure you have nothing to hide, right, Gabrielle?" His lips arched into a smile.

Her fingernails dug into the back of the tray she was holding so dearly against her chest. Did he really mean that, or had he figured out something? Composing herself, she returned his statement with a wry smile. Nikolaus said nothing more after that, continuing to finish the rest of his meal.

When the last customer had left the restaurant and the complimentary glasses cleared from their table, the Gestapo officers stood up, and without a word dispersed in different directions to carry out their task, all except for Nikolaus who remained in the same spot, gazing out the window.

Gabrielle stood next to him, silently following his gaze out to her orchard where her mother was working hard on the last apple trees. The apple barrels were filled up so full they looked almost like a pool of blood from afar. The guards had yet to search their orchard.

It was time to cast the deciding dice. She walked up to open the door to the garden and turned to him.

"Do you want to have a look outside?" It sounded more like an invitation than a plead for innocence.

"I'd love to." He nodded.

It was almost as he had imagined. The soothing sensation. The autumnal zephyr. The picturesque sunset. Hoping to lose himself in the overwhelming scenery, Nikolaus turned around to his lovely companion, who still had that guarded look on her face. She was not very good at hiding her emotions or whatever else she was obviously hiding here.

"The orchard and the cafe belong to your family?"

Of course he already had all information he needed to know about her family, this one included. The question was merely a kind gesture to the poor girl whose blood was not flowing properly to her face. Yet it seemed his intention was poorly executed.

"Yes? Ah, yes." She clutched the tray closer to her chest, ready for his questioning.

"The flowers are very nice. Did you grow them?"

Gabrielle blinked at his question. Was he making friendly conversation with her?

"My mother helps out. I couldn't manage all of this on my own." Though it was true that she did most of the work. If there was anything Gabrielle loved and excelled at more than cooking, it was gardening.

Apples weren't the only plant in her garden. There was a myriad of flora, enchanting the garden with an even more refreshing aura. Sadly, many of them were starting to succumb to the autumnal grasp. Nikolaus briefly pondered at the prospect of returning in spring for their efflorescence.

"This is lovely. I've always wanted something like this… a garden of my own."

"You?"

She blamed the momentary imprudence on the irony of his words and his current profession.

"Life isn't always how we want it to be, is it?" He smiled.

Her face fell to an even paler color as she watched his gaze finally turned to the apple tree her mother was picking. Casually, he strolled towards her ladder. Gabrielle was not far behind, her heart racing faster with each step. She should say something. Distract him. Get his attention towards anything but-

"Must be a plentiful harvest. Look at all these apples." He commented, picking an apple from the fullest barrel and casually tossing it up. "This barrel alone could feed my whole squad for a month."

Gabrielle could almost feel her mother's body froze at his words. Silently swallowing her own fear, she quickly mustered up a smile.

"If you'd like, we could send over some barrels to your place."

Nikolaus put the apple back on the barrel. His eyes narrowed attentively at the red fruits.

"Don't trouble yourself…" His tone shifted to a cold, serious one. "Are you all finished in there?" He called out suddenly.

The door swung open and the Gestapo squad stepped outside, each with a machine gun in his hand.

Gabrielle dropped her gaze the ground. How did she ever think this would work? The most obvious place was also the safest place. That trick would not work on the most infamous hunting machine of Europe. She bit back her quivering lips and dreadfully waited for his next command.

"They're all clear. We'll just need to search this garden." One of his officers spoke.

Nikolaus couldn't see with her hair dangling down but it looked like she had shut her eyes closed.

"There is no need. I've already checked it." His voice was loud and clear.

Her head shot up, eyes immediately meeting his, surprised and baffled.

"I wouldn't want to take away your hard-earned harvest. Besides, I'm sure they don't want to have apple for dessert every single day." His voice had returned to its friendly tone. . "It looks like our job here is done. Thank you for your hospitality and cooperation."

He gestured for his group to move out before following behind them, only to stop at the door at the last second.

"I really like your cooking, Gabrielle. You have a talent there. Don't waste it on… other frivolous matters." He said without glancing back at her. "I'll be coming back soon for another special of yours."

The minute the door closed behind him and the black uniforms were all out of sight, Gabrielle sunk to her knees, allowing her body to finally have its tremble as she slowly processed what had happened.

Her mother ran to the front door, making sure they really were leaving before returning to help Gabrielle up. Her daughter was really not that bold as she might look.

"They're gone. You can come out now, Roxanne." Her mother called.

Apples burst from the barrel and emerged Roxanne, coughing heavily for air. Even when the Gestapo hadn't discovered her, any moment longer buried under those apples and she might as well have suffocated to death.

Roxanne did not know what exactly had happened up here, but clearly it was nothing short of God's miracle. Getting out of the fruit coffin, she sank to her knees and held her hands in a prayer.

If it had been Marianne's mother instead of hers standing there, Gabrielle was sure the woman would have blasted Roxanne for being an ungrateful brat. But of course, that would never happen as Mrs. Lavigne would never let Roxanne, a now convicted Jewish, to step one foot inside her house, let alone hide her from the wrath of the German death squad. Luckily for Roxanne, Gabrielle's family was more understanding towards her devout religiousness.

Not that Gabrielle really had the mind to judge Roxanne's attitude, she was still troubled over the Gestapo leader's final words. Obviously he knew something. Was it about Roxanne? But if it was, why didn't he do anything? If not, what did he really mean? One thing was for sure. Something definitely seemed off about that man, but she could not yet figure out what it was.

* * *

><p><strong>Lyon, October 1940<strong>

"You have to try this scotch. It's vintage quality."

Zachary held up the bottle for a close examination. Before he could proceed to pour the wine into the empty glass, a hand had reached down to cover it up.

"You know I don't drink." Konrad picked up his glass and walked up to the bar.

"Just a few sips won't hurt. Besides, it's our day-off." It didn't take more than five seconds for Zachary to realize no amount of pleading would be enough to persuade him. "Fine. Do you want me to get you tea?" he huffed. To think he had invited this man over for a housewarming celebration.

Konrad only shook his head. To him alcohol was a destructive tool, poisoning the human's senses. Filling his cup with water, he returned to the sofa.

"How's Johan doing?" Konrad asked.

It had been two months since the Lieutenant was suspended from office, and without pay. As much as Konrad sympathized with his friend's heroic action, the latter did step far out of line. More importantly, had he not imposed a fitting punishment on Johan, the young Lieutenant could face much worse once words reached the top of the Gestapo hierarchy, the SS whose leader was the right-hand man of the very person controlling all of Germany and parts of continental Europe.

"If you're asking if he's behaving, believe me, he is." Zachary stoutly vouched for his friend. From what he heard recently, Johan had been visiting Church, and that was the ultimate form of penitence there was for a man whose ideal breakfast was two bottles of Paulaner.

"Good. If he conducts himself in the proper manner, comes new year perhaps I could get him back to duty." One thing was certain, he would not be resuming his old post where he got to sit around all day dealing with trivial paperwork. "What do you say we pick him up later and the three of us go grab something to eat? My treat."

Zachary had to check twice to make sure he had heard correctly. "In that case how could I turn down the mighty General?" His face bloomed into a joyful glow. The three of them had not hung out since Johan's incidence, not even himself and Konrad given the recent development of the French Resistance movements.

"Still no lead on those rebels' hideout?" he asked. For months they had been chasing shadows and trails of false information.

But before Konrad could answer, a voice had interrupted.

"You still haven't located their base?"

Zachary's face fell as he turned around to look at the man who'd just spoken. This man was not much older than Konrad but had gained a much more ruthless reputation to himself. If Konrad was only hardened by the barbarism of wars, this man was the barbarian king himself. Though his appearance might say the exact opposite. He was not a brute, no imposing features or masculine muscles. But any captured enemy who looked upon him would not know whether he could hope for a swift and merciful death. The only thing he and Konrad had closest in common was perhaps their rare platinum-blonde hair.

He was Dominic von Kluge, General of the 5th Panzer Division and the eldest son of one of the most respected Field Marshal in the army.

"We are still investigating," Konrad replied duly.

"The rebels are probably smuggling weapons right under your nose as we speak." Dominic sneered, taking a seat next to them.

"We've already closed in on their possible locations. We'll catch them soon enough," said Konrad.

"Soon enough is not soon enough." Dominic opened the bottle of Scotch on the table and poured himself a glass. "I would gladly take charge of this operation had I not already been assigned to Normandy."

'_Why don't you just go there already and leave us to our job?'_ Zachary griped mentally, secretly shooting the man scornful glares. How he wished he could say this out loud to his face. Unfortunately, there were so many reasons as to why he never could.

"How are the fortifications coming?" Konrad asked.

"Everything is still on paper. Construction won't be commencing for at least another year."

'_Hah! And you have the nerve to criticize us!' _Zachary tried hard to refrain himself from that "Tsk".

"Of course. Most of our forces are gradually being transferred to the East," Konrad commented. It was part of a big, very big plan, the one of utmost confidentiality that currently only the highest commanders in the German army would know of.

"Yes. And the Brits won't be invading the western coast any time soon. Or ever. Depending on whether or not they can survive the Blitz." Dominic sneered, his cold eyes flaring up with excitement at such thought. "There's no need to rush with the Atlantic Wall. The important thing right now is to put an end to those rebellion rats as soon as possible." He took another gulp and turned his attention to Zachary.

"You've been quiet, Zach. You didn't even say hello to me."

"Hi, Dominic." Zachary forced his lips into a smile, refilling his glass. "When did you arrive in Lyon?" Regrettably, he had to leave the second half unsaid. _'And when will you be leaving?'_

"Just this morning." He leaned back against the sofa, his eyes scouting the interior of Zachary's home. "I heard your new house was done being renovated so I decided to drop by."

"That's too bad. Konrad and I were just leaving. We have this appointment." He kicked Konrad's foot under the table, signaling for his friend to cooperate. He was sure Konrad did not enjoy Dominic's company either.

"Is that so? My father and sister are also on their way over here. It'd be a pity if they miss you." Dominic gently shook his glass, eyeing the liquid movement.

Konrad looked over to his friend who, surprisingly, did not looked too excited at the news of his fiancée coming over. Perhaps it was the accompanying Field Marshal who was distressing the young Major. Konrad presumed as much, given the fact that Zachary and his future wife had not seen each other in months since they left Paris.

"We can always catch up on that appointment another time. I'm sure you're more anxious to see Ameline again." Konrad stood up and patted him on the shoulder.

"Yeah…" Zachary slowly nodded, putting down his glass.

"Send my best regards to the Field Marshal. Zach, Dominic." He nodded goodbye to the two men and headed for the door.

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><p>The von Kluge was a powerful family from Berlin, their prestigious lineage tracing back to the military gentry of Prussia. Their current patriarch was Heinz von Kluge and Zachary's future father-in-law. The old Field Marshal had many children but most talented among them were Dominic, his eldest son and successor, and Ameline, his only daughter.<p>

Zachary watched from his window as the car drove into his front yard and eventually came to a haul. His butler rushed to open the car door and out stepped a pair of shaky legs, poised by a walking stick. The Field Marshal was a veteran from the last war and still a formidable commander in previous battles against France, having sustained many war injuries, one of which had left an impairment on his leg.

The Marshal emerged from his car, rejected the butler's offered hand for assistance, and walked up to the front door. A series of coughing soon followed from the other side of the car.

"Quickly, fetch her medicine from the trunk." The Marshal commanded.

"I'm all right, father." A slender hand reached out from the car window and shook at the butler. Stifling her coughs, Ameline von Kluge stepped out from the car and followed after her father into the house. Her graceful posture spoke of a true noble born-and-raised.

As she entered the house and removed her hat and coat, her full appearance was revealed to the expectant servants, who had been all too eager to meet at last the woman who was to be their mistress. However, they, much like anyone else who met Ameline for the first time, were struck with a momentary shock as they looked at the peculiar feature that tarnished half of the elegance that was her face.

On the left side of her face marked a big, hideous black stain that stretched from her ear down to her chin. Ameline, however, had no desire to cover it up. She never let her hair down to hide away the tragic birthmark, like most would do. Au contraire, she had always kept her hair short and neatly tucked behind her ears. She would wear it proudly, for it was also one of the many wounds wars had inflicted on her father.

Perhaps it was one of the many reasons why the Field Marshal had always doted on her over many other of his sons. Whenever he looked at her, he would remember the heavy price he, as well as many of the combatants of the previous war, had paid for employing the deadly chemical weapons. He had survived the gas attack, but it continued to haunt him for many more years after.

It was a good thing such conduct was now internationally prohibited and his sons would not suffer the same fate on their battlefields. But, war was always war. He did not know if it would come the day when he had to attend the funeral of any of his own sons. The Marshal loved his family, and most of all his daughter, whom he had decided to entrust to her fiancé for the time to come.

In this little town, she would be safe from the big storm that was brewing over the sky of Germany.

**End of Chapter 6**

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><p>Dominic is Demando (or Diamond), if you are wondering.<p>

About the chapter's title: larva is the stage where the insect has only come out of the egg and looks like a worm. In Latin, larva means a mask or a ghost.

**Historical notes:**

The Blitz: a series of aerial bombing of the United Kingdom by Germany in 1940-1941. During this time of the story, the UK was alone in fighting Germany. All her allies either surrendered or had not entered the war.

In World War I, chemical weapons were widely used by both the Allies and Central Powers, resulting over 90,000 deaths and leaving many more in unusual medical conditions. The use of chemical weapons was internationally prohibited after the Geneva Protocol in 1925.

I forgot to note about Prussia in the earlier chapters. Prussia is often perceived as the symbol of the old German power and militarism. In the words of Napoleon Bonaparte: "Prussia was hatched from a cannonball".

Paulaner: a brand of German beer brewed in Munich.

_If you remember WWII history, you know what happened in 1941 and what I was hinting at. XD  
><em>


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